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canvas set, paint brush wet.
red, yellow, green and blue
a little glitter for that shimmer too
framed on your wall,
the crime of primary passions at night fall.

Cafiifa Jeylani ©️
inspired by artists. 20-06-18. back to basics
an observation,
it's in their nature.
they pass by
the way paper planes fly
sky high.
our different deeds,
you know what i mean.
the good, the bad,
don't forget the intention.
oh, but have i mentioned.
i got more sessions.

Cafiifa Jeylani ©️
I wrote this a long time ago.... 06/09/17
convicted of a crime
one of being too fine.
with a cavalry of queens
she will bring you to your knees.
a queen in her right with
the throne in her sight.

Cafiifa Jeylani ©️
can't remember when I wrote this,
had this in the notebook and finally...
Mae Jul 30
Oh, the jar exults high
holding what we find to be dear
Oh, the marinaras keen zest, umami, and as I close my eyes
I hum the hunger tune.
Oh, but without the curved ridge and open space
the sauce would never grace my face
The jar! The jar,
the vehicle of delicious  
who was passed through many hands
and crafted with hot sand.
Oh, tomato, garlic, and onion so sweet
and delivered neat, for me to eat.
Stirring...
contemplating how to prepare the words
that have racked up in your stomach.

Short breadths,
breathing to settle these words
as they rest on your tongue.

Those loaded lips,
speaking that final word
breaching your own code of conduct.

Comprised in haste,
you find that final word
has a nasty aftertaste.

This flavor,
is racking up in your heart
like a spice rack of Pride.

Filled and full,
tasting bitter, spicy and dull
this flavor has managed to take control.

On this flavor's original day,
a subtle sprinkle
started your foolish way.

The oft' familiar taste,
of this embarrassing heat stages under your eyes
as a glance of regret.

Hidden within a secret sauce,
displayed on a plate of words you have prepared;
this dish is for someone else eat it.
Proverbs 16:18
"Pride goes before destruction,
and a haughty spirit before a fall."

I find my self writing this poem in the midst of a fallen state. It is much easier to swallow pride before it has a chance to act out and affect others. After it is out and exposed, the taste is ever more bitter. But by the grace of Jesus, that bitter flavor of pride can be overpowered and southed with grace.
ChrisL Mar 2
Our relationship, deeper than any pizza base.
Our love, saucier than the finest italian passata.
Our feelings stronger than the maturest of fine cheeses.
Our willingness to please the other stretches such as the most glorious of mozzarella.

To what do we base our feelings upon,
Be it the interchangable toppings or the structural integrity of the strongest crust.

Akin to snowflakes no two pizzas are ever alike. Each one differing to the last, be it the char marks on it's peak or the flame kissed bottom.

Our choice in toppings may differ so vastly, you with your ghastly pineapple and myself with my overly rich and greasy bbq meatfeast.
Alas does this mean anything at all? Nothing but a matter of opinion, toppings change to peoples liking, but our bases remain the same our sauce the binding glue to hold it all together.
soli Nov 2018
the noodles are elegant, lovely and fair,
i see now there's a reason
why you're called angel hair.
buttery smooth, and golden light reflection
it's strikingly radiant
the epitome of perfection.

the sauce is as red as my cheeks
when one is deeply in love,
far higher than a mountain peak.
look, it flies in the saucepan
alluring is not a word to describe,
but truly, it's so hot, it needs a fan.

the meatballs are spheres of joy
what geometry could calculate its area?
though it ignores me, i tell it to not play coy.
how lovely the ringing sounds of sizzles,
light my ear with fireworks unheard,
oh, how my feelings are a shizzling!

oh spaghetti, my love, my joy, my life,
it's unnatural to see my tears fall on the plate.
you are my happiness, my leftover bowl of strife.
i mourn when there is none left
for breakfast in the morning,
but i dream of you when i go to bed.
Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2018
Chocolate chips creamy cheese cake, chum,
Chilled with chunks of chopped cherries in ***.
Try chilly chips with saucy chops,
Or chicken cheeseburgers with spicy chips.
It's chef's chic choice hmmm....
Greg Jones May 2018
She paid the cost
Endured the loss
Bounced back and found her way.
Now she in her groove
Making all the moves
On a path that she paved.
Oooh everyone around her playing charades.
Oooh while she over here tryna get paid.
Everything about her is self-made.

See the jewels? Oh best believe she bought it.
See the car? She only drives in exotics.
Where she came from? Oooh she ain’t forgot it.
When we locked eyes, no surprise, these feelings yeah I caught it.

Oooh she’s the boss.
But that’s no shock.
Got a walk that match her talk.
That’s floss and gloss.
CEO of the life she lives.
She’s got the sauce.
Homies mad that she don’t show them the ***.
Mmm that’s not her fault.
She say she loves me but no need me,
Oooh that’s my boss.
Alex McQuate Apr 2017
I sit here,
Nearly at the end of my wit's,
Don McLean is chattering on about how the quartet practiced in the park,
The sauce is 35 minutes from being complete,
A journey that started 5 hours and 25 minutes ago.
All because I wanted to try a recipe,
But I'd be lying if my taste buds didn't enjoy it.
Cooking is exhausting
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